


then you’re left in the dust

by findingkairos



Series: to you I gift the end of things [10]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Friendship, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Loyalty, Philza Minecraft Needs a Hug (Dream SMP), Platonic Relationships, Technoblade Needs a Hug (Dream SMP), friendship breakup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:41:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29882661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/findingkairos/pseuds/findingkairos
Summary: Techno will never really, truly trust him again. Phil had shattered that with his own two hands. All he can do from now on is try and make up for it.
Relationships: Technoblade & Philza Minecraft (Dream SMP)
Series: to you I gift the end of things [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2104326
Comments: 35
Kudos: 264





	then you’re left in the dust

**Author's Note:**

> ( _the road to hell_ — in the right kind of light, we look like sparrows)

“He isn’t taking any visitors right now.”

“He’ll meet with me.”

“Not even with you,” Calvin says, and sneers at him. “You really think after that stunt you pulled, any of us would be happy to see you? Really?”

Phil pushes, because surely Calvin doesn’t understand. Surely the people around them are overreacting. “I have known him for years more than you have. I have known him since you were still tied to your mother’s apron strings.”

But all Calvin does is scoff, short and loud. There is an anger in his eye, the kind that comes from somewhere deep. “Yeah, you knew him for a long time. And yet what does it say about you, that he still refuses to see you?”

This is preposterous. This is _ridiculous_. “He’s never refused me before.” Not even during the worst of the war, when the both of them had bathed in blood.

“You’ve never betrayed him like this before.”

“Betrayed? I would never.” Phil had done what is needed to keep Techno alive—keep them _all_ alive. He had made his choice and gotten out as soon as he could and come back, because he still believes in Techno’s cause. If he’d been a true traitor, he could have stayed with the King.

No, he’s here, getting stared down by one of Techno’s right-hand men. Waiting outside the field tent for Techno to let him in, in a way he’s never done before.

Calvin raises an eyebrow, high and judgmental. “Tell that to the fifty men that came after his head, then, and the fact that they all said they were sent by _you_.”

What. “What?”

Both eyebrows go up. “Oh, so _now_ you care about the consequences of your actions?”

Phil opens his mouth to retort— _I always think about the consequences. Do you?_ —when someone says, “Enough,” and it’s the person he’s been waiting for. Phil straightens. Calvin’s expression sours. “Let him in.”

“Techno,” Calvin says, without turning around. “You don’t owe this to him.”

Phil can’t afford to look away from Calvin right now, but he knows Techno, he can imagine the frown; the same one he pulls when there is only one way out. “I know I don’t. But I think he deserves to know why he’ll have the whole guild after his head, now.”

“Not just his head. This isn’t the first time he’s done something like this, Techno.”

“But this will be the last. Let’s end it cleanly.”

This doesn’t make sense. Techno _knows_ Phil. They’d grown up together. Hells, they’d come up through the guild’s ranking system together. For him to be so ready to cut him out is—there must be something going on. Surely, there is another explanation for this. “There must have been a misunderstanding.”

A muscle jumps near Calvin’s jaw. “I wouldn’t call a sword to the back a misunderstanding,” he says, but he’s pulling the tent flap aside anyway.

“A what?”

“Two days ago,” Techno snarls. “You went to the Well.”

“I did, yes.” Phil drinks in the sight of Techno. He’s fine. He’s healthy. He’s leaning over the maps again, his sleeves folded up to his elbows, his axe leaning against the table. There’s blood on his armor but none of it is his.

But he’s got his sword in its scabbard in his hand, undrawn but still present. He’s never armed himself in Phil’s presence before.

He’s never glared at Phil like this before, too, but there it is. Enough hatred and bitterness and anguish that it slides between Phil’s ribs like a knife.

“You went to the Well,” Techno says again, “and then you made a deal.”

“I did,” Phil admits, because he’d done that, too. “It was a good deal, Techno—it solves all our problems.”

“He thinks he’s in the right,” Calvin says from behind him, but there’s no understanding in it—just incredulity. “Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me.”

Phil doesn’t understand. “Techno, mate—you were stressing about the King’s men closing in.”

“Yeah, I was,” Techno—hisses. There’s so much vitriol dripping from his words that Phil takes a physical step back. He’s rising to his full height again, stance battle-ready, his sheathed sword in his hand but Phil knows how fast with it he is. “And then you went and made a _deal with them_.”

“To keep us alive.” Phil spreads his hands—empty, of course, he’s not an idiot, especially with Calvin still at his back and TapL no doubt lingering in the shadows somewhere, and that’s not even mentioning the _rest_ of the crew who he hasn’t seen and therefore can’t rule out—and tries to make Techno understand. “To keep _you_ alive. Mate. I made a deal, and it was good for us, and—”

“It sent fifty men for me, and men for each of the people in our company.” Techno raises his chin. He doesn’t need to, he still towers over Phil and Calvin plenty without it, but that tilt of his mouth—it’s the one that means business.

Oh, stars.

“Jabber is laid up right now,” Techno says, and each word makes Phil’s heart drop lower in his chest. “An arrow through the knee. We don’t know if they’ll walk again. I had to send the rest of them to ground. So pray tell, _Philza_ , what kind of deal did you make that you think was worth it?”

No nicknames, just full. The knife twists. Phil breathes in, sharply, knows that there is something choking at his throat. He lets it.

“I traded them for you,” he says quietly, and wonders if Calvin will go for the head or heart first. It doesn’t matter either way—the only person here that Phil’s ever been evenly matched with is standing right in front of him. “They left me a message. And you know I’ve never cared about the honor of the discharge or the sanctity of souls or anything like that, but they told me _you can only save one of them_ , and I chose to ask them to spare you. Are you telling me they went back on that deal?”

“You made a deal with the Ender King.” Techno snorts, and he smiles, more baring of teeth than amusement. “Did you really think he would keep it?”

So it’s all been for nothing. So the sneaking, and the pleas, and the bargains, and the sacrifices—they’ve all been for nothing. Phil’s of half a mind to turn around right now and march right back into the Well, stab that foolish King somewhere it’d hurt.

But Calvin is still there when he turns, blocking the exit. “Running away already?” he asks. Unlike Techno, he’s already drawn his sword.

Deliberate rustling, behind. Techno shifting on his feet, moving his weight from right to left. “You know my opinions,” he says quietly, “on negotiating with madmen.”

Phil knows too that Techno values each and every one of the guild. But the thing is—Phil doesn’t, not really. He’s here for two reasons, and one of them is the bastard in the Well, and the other—

Techno’s armor clinks as he walks, and Phil breathes shallowly, stays in place, as he paces a circle and comes back around.

“You’ve screwed us, Philza,” he says, and there is red in his eyes and a sword in his hands and Phil closes his eyes. Feels himself shrink away. “You gave up the guild’s safehouses. And you know I can’t let you leave—you know too much. I can’t let you just walk away, either. Half of the guild is calling for your head, and the other half is calling for your heart.”

“And you?” Phil swallows hard, commits to the dive. He opens his eyes.

There’s no expression on Techno’s face for him to read.

“I can’t trust you anymore, Philza.”

Phil appreciates Techno’s bluntness and straightforward nature, he really does, but this once—just this once—he wishes he’d be more tactful. More deceptive, maybe. But Techno is resolute in the ways that matter, and that leaves Phil—reeling.

“I made the damn deal for _you_ ,” he tries. Not because he needs to defend himself, but—he needs Techno to understand. If that’s all he gets, then he’ll be—not happy. Satisfied, maybe.

“And I understand.” Techno sighs, long and low. “Doesn’t mean I can forgive you, though.”

Techno takes the health and safety of the guild seriously, much more than Phil ever had. It still carves out something between his ribs to hear it so plainly.

“Techno, mate—”

“That’s _Technoblade_ to you,” Calvin says, sharp, and Techno—doesn’t correct him.

Techno will never really, truly trust him again. Phil had shattered that with his own two hands. All he can do from now on is try and make up for it.

“Technoblade,” he tries again, and swallows past the sudden dryness of his mouth. “Don’t let me leave, then. Let me make up for it.”

“Don’t think you _can_ ,” Calvin snorts, but he’s not the one that Phil needs to pay attention to right now.

Technoblade doesn’t move for a long moment, doesn’t say anything, just stares. His thumb sweeps across the scabbard of his sword in thought, back and forth, back and forth.

Eventually he says, “Hand over your weapons. All of them.”

It’s either a set-up or a genuine offer. Phil hands over his weapons anyway, Benihime included. Technoblade takes the netherite sword himself—so maybe he isn’t _too_ mad. Hope flutters in Phil’s chest.

And then Technoblade tells Calvin “I’ll keep hold of this, it’s one of the callable swords,” and the hope dies a bitter death in the cage of his ribs.

“And the armor?”

Technoblade eyes Phil up and down. He knows that look. It’s the assessing one, except he’s not scanning Phil for injuries or post-battle condition anymore; his attention is lingering on the runes of the armor and the pouches on his belt.

It’s one thing to see from the outside, as he sizes up an enemy. It’s another to be under the stare himself.

“The armor can stay for now,” he answers Calvin, and if he realizes that Phil’s heart is breaking then he’s not showing it. “I don’t want him dead, y’know? Make sure that the guild stays off him.”

“We wouldn’t _kill_ him,” Calvin says. “Even if he deserves it.”

“As long as you remember he only has one life.” Technoblade works his jaw. Phil has to stifle the urge to reach out and poke his friend in the cheek, remind him that grinding teeth isn’t good for him. “Can’t kill him to bring back lost limbs, either.”

“I don’t know, Techno,” and maybe the jab at Phil isn’t intentional, but it’s still a punch in the gut. Phil closes his eyes, because otherwise he is going to be very tempted to strangle Calvin and his nickname privileges with his bare hands. “Being down a hand would make it very hard for him to hurt us. Same with the wings, really.”

Phil’s breath hitches. Oh, gods—Techno wouldn’t do that to him, surely—but it’s not Techno anymore, it’s _Technoblade_ , and Phil knows his friend and he knows the man that people the universe over calls the blood god. Technoblade would, and he would see nothing wrong with it.

But Technoblade says “Not yet—sometimes you only need the threat to make a point,” and Phil eases his weight off the balls of his feet.

The white eyes pin him in place. “Is that clear, Philza? This isn’t leniency.”

No, just grace, and Phil has to swallow twice before he can get out the words: “Crystal clear, mate.”

“You’re not allowed to leave,” he continues, each word measured and weighty and final. “You’re not allowed to contact anyone. Just in case.”

Calvin reaches out; Phil hands over his communicator with numb fingers.

“You’re not allowed to go home,” Technoblade says, and Phil’s hand goes to his waist at that—but he’s not got his sword, it’s in Techno’s hand, and Benihime hums but she’s silenced by the creeping fingers of the void.

He knows what he’s doing, but Phil can only see the eyes behind the mask. The person who is standing before him is—not a stranger, not exactly, but the coldness directed towards him is new.

“Do you accept those conditions?”

He asks it like it’s a question. Except it’s not, except Phil had almost sold his soul to keep Techno safe, and compared to that—this is easy.

“I do,” he says, and inhales deeply, preparing to go under. “You want it as an oath?”

Technoblade—pauses. Once, he would have laughed Phil off. Once, he would have said _no need for oaths between us_ , because he’s said it before, because it’s true. The both of them had built up that relationship block by block, years ago.

Except Phil had panicked, and forgotten that Technoblade is driven by more than just his emotions, that he will live and kill according to his own moral code, and in his panic Phil had made a mistake.

“Swear it on your wings,” Technoblade says, and Phil does. It’s an easy price to pay.

**Author's Note:**

> A guild, in this context, is an association of persons of the same trade or pursuits, formed to protect mutual interests.
> 
> The Ender King is a reference to Philza Minecraft's Hardcore Season 4 lore. :>
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